My Clara
by ToryTigress92
Summary: Clara thought she was finally rid of Missy, after the incident on Skaro. But their short-lived partnership has intrigued the Mistress of all Evil, and Clara is about to find out how dangerous, and potentially mind-blowing, it is to be intriguing to Missy. Misswald/Missfle, canon-compliant.
1. Traps Are My Flirting

My Clara

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 **A/N:** So this follows on directly from 'The Witch's Familiar', with Missfle 'missing scenes' between episodes, with the occasional bit of Whouffaldi thrown in where appropriate.

* * *

Clara closed her eyes as she closed the door of her flat, letting out a tired sigh. Outside, she could still just about hear the faintest echo of the Tardis dematerialising.

She still had a headache from being telepathically plugged in to a Dalek. Frowning slightly, Clara idly rubbed her temple, trying to soothe the pain. The Doctor had told her that the nanotech had repaired any damage to her skull when he removed the feed so she wouldn't suffer any further side-effects. It had been one hell of a day.

It wasn't every day that the psychotic ex of your best mate entrapped you in a Dalek and tried to trick said best friend into killing you. Clara shuddered at the memory of it, as she recalled feeling an awful sense of hopelessness well as she tried her best to scream her identity, but hearing only that awful, soulless voice screeching 'exterminate, exterminate' instead. She had a horrid feeling of déjà vu over the whole incident, like it had happened before somehow, somewhen. If it did, then Clara didn't remember it, and she was glad she didn't.

But the Doctor had come through, as he always did. Giving her temple one last rub, Clara pushed away from the door and wandered towards her kitchen to grab some aspirin.

She didn't fee like she could sleep just yet. Even without the pain, she was still buzzing on adrenaline and excitement, her muscles still twitching from being on high alert all day. As she passed her phone, she noted the double-figure number of messages waiting for her, and groaned. Probably Mr Dunlop wanting an explanation for her sudden disappearance that morning, or Kate demanding an update on the situation. She'd handle them in the morning.

* * *

As she passed her sofa however, Clara felt a chill as a voice spoke from the shadows. "Hello again, poppet."

Clara scrambled for the lights, her heart racing again. It flicked on, illuminating her living room to reveal Missy sat on her sofa, one leg draped over the other, looking none the worse for wear considering the last time Clara had seen her, she'd disappeared into a steadily collapsing Dalek city.

Clara had a feeling her headache was about to get ten times worse.

Without another word, Clara ducked into her kitchen and headed straight for her set of kitchen knives that Linda had bought for her as a joke one Christmas. She whipped around, but Missy was right there, apparently unfazed by the knife now pressing into her neck. "Now poppet, that's no way to welcome a friend," she pouted, pressing Clara into the kitchen cabinets.

"We're not friends," Clara gasped through gritted teeth.

"Oh my dear, you're killing me," Missy rolled her eyes. "After scrambling through Dalek-infested ravines and sewers, whatever else would we be?"

Clara dug the edge of the knife in to Missy's neck warningly, but Missy just yawned. "I'd say go right ahead darling, but we both know you're no more capable of it now than you were before. So be a good puppy and just drop it."

"You tried to kill me since then," Clara retorted. Missy rolled her eyes.

"So I got a little jealous," she pouted. "So would you be if your best friend just forgot your existence for one tiny, insignificant _human_ girl, after you saved his life, and hers, several times."

"Yeah, really feeling the love right now," Clara muttered sarcastically.

"I could have left you to die, multiple times, Clara dear," Missy replied. "But I didn't, I couldn't. You're far too much fun. Incidentally…"

"Incidentally…what?" Clara sighed, feeling more and more uncomfortable by the moment. Her back was jammed against the sink and her head was throbbing.

"Incidentally, if you're holding someone at knife point," Missy told her nonchalantly, seemingly unconcerned by the knife at her throat. "Best to get it over and done with quickly, instead of arguing semantics."

Clara gasped as one of Missy's hands gripped her wrist, forcing it down and away, making her gasp from the pressure. Abruptly she was forced around, and she froze when she felt the cold sting of steel against her own throat. "You don't want to lose the advantage," Missy whispered against her ear, her body pressed uncomfortably close.

"Why are you here?" Clara gasped, mind racing. "You got what you wanted, the Doctor's safe. Is this some kind of twisted revenge you're planning?"

"Oh Clara, my Clara," Missy giggled in her ear. "Maybe I want something else now…"

* * *

Clara shuddered in relief when she felt the knife at her edge drop away, hitting the sink with a clatter. Missy stepped back and turned away, her profile a taunting mockery, almost begging Clara to snatch the knife back and try again. But she knew better now, knew the Mistress would just use it to her advantage to prove her superiority again.

"What do you want?" Clara asked, deciding to go on the psychological, rather than physical, attack. "If you hurt me, the Doctor will know. He'll hunt you down to the ends of Time-"

"Oh spare me the melodramatics," Missy sighed, all but throwing herself on Clara's sofa, eying her nails as she leant back into the cushions. "He might hunt me down, but that's as far as it will go."

"He left you to die on Skaro," Clara pointed out, and then mentally smacked herself in the face for it. Just remind her of that, way to go Clara! Her headache was clouding her faculties, making her wits fuzzy. She really needed some aspirin.

"He told me to _run_ ," Missy corrected. "He told me to run, right in front of you. Rather telling, don't you think?"

Clara didn't want to admit she had a point. Unlike the graveyard, the Doctor had firmly refused to kill her when he had that Dalek gun in his hand, and he'd done it in Clara's hearing. She'd been so relieved and scared at the time, that she'd only thought about it later.

"He knew I'd survive, one way or the other," Missy continued when Clara remained silent, trapped in her thoughts. One finely manicured fingernail tapped away at her temple thoughtfully. "We've been playing this game for millennia, my dear, and we'll be playing long after you've turned to dust."

Clara recalled Missy's comments about their friendship during their tête-à-tête in the square, and grudgingly decided to let it go. She was probably right on that front, even if Clara didn't like it.

"How did you survive Skaro?" Clara asked, curious despite herself. Missy chuckled.

"Made a deal with some surviving Daleks," the Time Lady told her. "Said I'd create a Dalek-Time Lord hybrid for them if they spared my life. Didn't take long to repair one of the vortex manipulators and escape. Daleks tend to be stultifying in their predictability. Easier to manipulate."

Clara nodded. "Why are you here then?" she asked, wincing as her head throbbed particularly painfully. "What do you want now?"

"Still so suspicious of me?" Missy replied evasively, eyes lingering on where Clara's fingers were massaging her temple.

"You trapped me inside a Dalek!" Clara snapped, glaring at her from across the room. "And tried to manipulate the Doctor into killing me! I think I'm allowed to be a little suspicious after that."

Before she could blink, Missy was up on her feet and had pinned Clara against the wall. She leaned in, making Clara gasp, as she fought to get free. "Now, now sweetheart," Missy whispered. "Remember what I said?"

"Remember what?" Clara snarled. Missy smiled viciously, leaning in until her lips brushed the whorl of Clara's ear. Clara tried to ignore the shiver that rushed down her spine.

"Traps are my flirting," Missy whispered against her ear. "You're the first companion of his in centuries to do something other than bore me. I am intrigued by you, Clara Oswald. And I always get what I want, in one way or another."

Without warning, Missy kissed her on the lips. Clara shuddered and pressed back into it, mind screaming at her in betrayal. When Missy leaned back, satisfaction aglow in her ice-blue eyes, Clara tried for defiance. "I'll tell the Doctor about this," she said warningly.

"Oh my dear," Missy smirked. "I don't think you will. No, I think we'll just keep this between us girls for now."

She leaned in and kissed Clara again, with just a flick of tongue against the seam of her lips, a tempting, taunting little tease that left Clara torn. When she opened her eyes, the Time Lady was gone.

Clara blinked. Her headache was gone too.

* * *

 _To be continued…_


	2. You're The Puppy

My Clara

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

* * *

Two weeks after the 'Missy' incident, Clara came home from work.

She was exhausted and stressed out, with exams just around the corner. She had a good feeling though. Courtney and some of the others had come on leaps and bounds when they realised that their actual GCSEs were this year.

She'd been travelling non-stop with the Doctor in-between classes. A four-week holiday on the beaches of Dolfina Prime, cocktails at the Maldovarium, three supernovas and four assassination attempts later, and Clara was wrung out. She loved travelling with the Doctor, now more than ever, but she was also looking forward to a quiet night in her flat with a bottle of wine and BBC iPlayer.

Of course, the Doctor always offered to simply download every single episode of Strictly, EastEnders, Holby City and Sherlock ever recorded. Ever since that Skaro incident, he'd been more desperate than ever to keep an eye on her. It was rather endearing, if at times annoying, but whenever she recalled the events of that crazy day she had to admit, he had fair reason.

As Clara climbed the stairs to her flat, her thoughts turned to the reason why the Doctor was so jumpy about letting her out of his sight. And that late night visit she paid to her flat, only hours after she'd thought she was free of her forever.

She hadn't been able to tell the Doctor. Every time she thought about it, she'd been stopped by an overwhelming reluctance, a deep need _**not**_ to tell the Doctor about her little interlude with Missy.

Clara flinched away from thoughts of possessive lips and being crushed against a wall. She forced herself to think on far safer territory; what Missy had told her about the millennia-old friendship between the Time Lady and the Doctor. And her jealousy.

She supposed she had a point. She'd be pretty annoyed and angry, distraught even, if the Doctor had all but forgotten her existence and asked for Missy continuously. That had to smart.

She wasn't sure if Missy would have turned her over to the Daleks. Probably, if only to get to the Doctor. She was just a pawn to her, in that sense. A means to an end.

So why the continuing interest? Clara wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

Despite Missy's threat - or was it promise? - to visit her again, Clara doubted she would. In her experience, Time Lords/Ladies had all the attention span of a particularly hyperactive five-year old child. She'd probably be too busy subjugating and enslaving some poor saps of an alien race somewhere, to remember to visit an insignificant human.

 _But you're not insignificant_ , a voice in her head warned her. _You're the Doctor's companion, his friend, the one he apparently forgot Missy for. She said it herself, you intrigued her._

Clara wasn't sure if it was caution or simply her egomania. God, she hoped it was her egomania talking.

* * *

As Clara finally reached her door, she found herself hesitating to open it. Her hand grazed the lock, fingers shaking slightly. She thought about what might be waiting for her on the other side, about _**who**_ might be waiting. Something akin to fear washed over her. At least, she hoped it was fear. It had to be fear, it couldn't be anything else.

Memories of lustful kisses and a teasing tongue tried to intrude, but Clara closed her eyes, banishing them. It had to be fear.

And Clara had never let fear rule her.

Swallowing hard, Clara's eyes snapped open as she fished her keys out of her pocket. She unlocked the door and pushed it inward, stepping into the dark entrance hall. She reached for the light switch, listening hard.

The light flicked on. Her flat was empty and silent.

Something that wasn't even slightly akin to relief replaced that pseudo-fear. Clara refused to admit it was disappointment. It couldn't be, it wouldn't be.

Clara locked her door, a cynical part of her mind wondering what was really the point when Missy could just teleport into her flat whenever the fancy took her.

She shrugged off her jacket, hanging it on its peg before wandering towards her kitchen. She might order some Chinese to go along with that very nice bottle of white wine chilling in her fridge. Running from seven reptilian Gorskian assassins made a girl forget about things like food and hunger. Most days she ran on pure adrenaline.

Just as Clara reached for the phone, she heard a scratching noise. Then a snuffling noise.

From the front room.

 _Again? Talk about clichéd…_ Clara thought absentmindedly as she placed the phone down, and cautiously edged into the living room. But there was no achingly familiar silhouette sitting on her sofa, no snide greeting in a Scottish accent. Just a wicker basket in the middle of the room, tied with a gigantic purple bow.

Hesitantly, Clara wondered exactly what Missy had deposited in her living room. What was this, some new attempt at killing her? Dumping some deadly alien animal in her flat to kill her?

There came that same snuffling sound again, and what sounded like a whimper. Frowning, she edged closer. The basket shook, and that whimper sounded again. It sounded like a dog…

Clara knelt down beside the basket, and reached for the bow, untying it slowly. It fell away, and she reached for the lid.

Missy's voice echoed in her head. _You're the puppy…_

"No," Clara shook her head in disbelief. But when she lifted the lid, she saw inside, nestled on a velveteen purple cushion, the most adorable dog she'd ever seen. It had deep brown eyes that gazed up at her winsomely, and the puppy barked up at this new face. It's coat was jet black, soft and wavy. It resembled a cocker spaniel.

But something about its eyes hinted that it wasn't an ordinary dog.

Carefully, in case it tried to bite or suddenly sprouted giant fangs, Clara reached in and hefted the puppy into her arms. It wagged its tail and snuggled into her arms, and Clara struggled not to let her heart melt. It had to be a trap.

An envelope had been squashed under the puppy, and Clara let the puppy down to explore its new surroundings, while she examined the envelope. It was a heavy, thick paper that denoted expense, and it was bare but for an actual, honest-to-God wax seal holding it shut. Clara examined the seal with interest, a Gallifreyan sigil that she nevertheless couldn't decipher. She guessed it must be something to do with Missy's house, her family seal. Interesting.

She slit it open, breaking the wax regretfully. It really was beautiful. Inside was a single square of paper, as heavy and luxuriant as the envelope. Missy's handwriting was elegant and cursive, almost entrancing Clara before the puppy's bark brought her back to herself. She settled down to read.

 _Hello puppy!_

 _I'm sorry, dear, I couldn't resist. I was having a lovely little snoop around your flat, and thought it seemed so utterly lonely. So I got you a puppy, as a symbol of our newfound friendship. Her eyes so reminded me of yours. A puppy for the puppy._

 _Do remember to feed the poor dear from time to time. She gets ever so testy if she doesn't get fed enough. I thought I'd leave the naming to you, Clara dear…_

Clara was jolted from her reading when the puppy suddenly jumped up on her lap, getting in a lick or two before she managed to hold it back. "So sneak attack huh?" Clara grumbled, begrudgingly stroking the puppy's soft fur. "Wonder who you learned that one from, little girl?"

 _From the other mistress, Mistress…_

"What the…?!"Clara shrieked, surprising the puppy, who yapped in alarm. Her heart racing, Clara looked again at the puppy, and the childish voice that had sounded in her head. "You're…you're…"

The puppy looked frightened. _Did I do something wrong, mistress?_

Immediately, Clara felt bad as she looked down into those big, brown eyes. She guessed she knew what the Doctor meant now…

 _No, no,_ Clara tried experimentally. _No, little girl. You just surprised me, that's all._

Seemingly reassured, the puppy settled back down in her lap and Clara stroked her to soothe her. She groped for the letter where she'd dropped it, and feverishly read the rest of it.

… _Your Ever Benevolent and Generous Mistress_

That made Clara roll her eyes derisively.

 _PS. The puppy is from Lycaninus IV, from the 42_ _nd_ _Century. A rather ingenious geneticist managed to create a dog subspecies with telepathic powers and human-level intelligence. She'll also live a far longer lifespan than your stunted little excuse for canines. Far better than a tin dog, in my opinion._

Clara didn't have a clue what she meant by that, but she stared at the puppy as her fingers combed meditatively through her coat. Missy have given her a puppy. She'd given her a 42nd century, genetically engineered puppy with telepathic powers and human intelligence.

Clara couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. Her new puppy jumped up at her chin, a sense of confusion echoing in Clara's mind at this odd sound. She forced herself to calm, and picked up her up.

 _Well, little girl,_ she began. _Do you have a name?_

For a moment, the puppy actually looked thoughtful, cocking its head adorably. _I don't think so. At least not one humans would understand. My mummy called me-_

A long series of snuffles and tiny, babyish howls. The puppy stopped, looking sad. _I miss my mummy._

Clara's heart definitively melted. Damn it. _I know, my little girl. But I'll take care of you._

The puppy perked up at that, her tail wagging incessantly. _What will you call me?_

A wicked smile lit Clara's face, after a moment's thought. _I think I'll call you Missy. I hope you like Chinese._

Missy the puppy barked enthusiastically, perfectly happy with the thought of Chinese for dinner.

* * *

The next morning, Clara made sure to go out and buy a dog collar, a proper bed and all the dog supplies she thought she'd need. Everyone in the shop had cooed and fussed over Missy, who enjoyed it immensely, before proudly strutting out the pet shop door in an entirely non-canine way.

"Missy! Wait for me, sweetie," Clara called after the puppy, catching up to her. She bent down and fished out Missy's new collar out of her shopping bag. _You can't just run off like that. We don't really have such clever dogs as you here, people might think you've run away._

 _Really?_ Missy's eyes pricked up in a clear show of surprise. _I don't want to run away._

 _Good girl_ , Clara smiled. She held out the collar. _This is just for show, I promise. Stick by me, and no one will think you'll run away._

Missy allowed herself to be collared, and then leapt up at Clara for a hug and a kiss. Clara laughed. "Missy, no! Down, girl!"

Clara froze at a familiar outraged squawk. "You called her _Missy_!? You named a dog after me!?"

She turned around to find Missy watching her from an alleyway. Missy the puppy snuggled into her arms, away from the cold wind, as Missy the Time Lady glared in disgust at Clara. Clara just smirked.

"You did say I could name her," she replied, feeling completely unafraid of her in the wake of her comedic disgust. "And that she's a super-intelligent dog from the future."

There was an unholy gleam in her eyes, as Clara took a step towards the alleyway. Missy the Time Lady crossed her arms, huffing grumpily.

"And you called yourself a bitch," Clara continued, making Missy freeze in shock. "I thought it suited her."

Missy was speechless, as Clara laughed at the look on her face, while Missy the puppy was quite contentedly snuggling into her human's arms. Clara turned away to walk home, before firing back over her shoulder. "You coming, or what? If you're going to stalking me, at least make yourself useful and help me teach her about toilet training."

"Oh no, that job's all yours," Missy sniffed haughtily, but she fell into step with Clara regardless. After a moment's silence, she said begrudgingly. "She's got cute eyes."

"Yes, she does," Clara agreed, smirking quietly to herself as Missy the puppy simultaneously licked her hand.

* * *

 _To be continued…_

 _I'm sorry, I couldn't resist :P_


	3. You Spend All Your Time Fighting

My Clara

Disclaimer: Yeah, I own nada. Otherwise Twisswald and Missfle would be canon.

Warnings: Well…one of the main characters is Missy so that should give you a clue. Oh heck, fine I'll spell it out. Explicit content, slightly creepy behaviour, some violence, and morally ambiguous relationships that I do not endorse but are ridiculously fun to write about.

 _ **A/N: Whew, finally done! This chapter was a killer to write, I'll admit. These two are certainly going to give me grey hairs before they're done with me.**_

* * *

Clara was full of questions. Like a glass overflowing with liquid, she was practically brimming with them. But there never seemed to be time for them.

In between running with the Doctor, ducking and diving around Fisher Kings and Mire and Daleks, and then her weekly visits from Missy, there never seemed to be enough time. But that didn't mean Clara didn't think them, when Missy wasn't near, when the Doctor wasn't distracting her with his giddy, breathless dance across the stars and Time, when she was standing in her classroom declaiming Bronte and Austen and Byron, when she took Missy the puppy for a walk, which wasn't getting confusing _at all_. Naming the puppy after Missy in revenge had seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was getting confusing in Clara's head and it wasn't quite so satisfactory when Missy refused to call the puppy anything but 'Junior' no matter how many times Clara tried to trick her into doing otherwise, and Missy the puppy was a super-intelligent dog.

Perhaps, she'd let Missy decide her own name. The puppy had human-level intelligence, after all.

Getting back to the point. The point was…she had so many questions, and no answers.

She was a control freak by nature. She _needed_ answers, so she could understand how to move forward. She needed answers so she could regain control.

Clara knew that as long as Missy kept her dangling, kept her ignorant, she would never regain control. And maybe a teeny, tiny little part of her was enjoying it, but Clara was far too sane to let it continue. Wasn't she?

She refused to think about that. She needed to take back control, and the only way she could do that was to force Missy to confess her _real_ reasons for intruding in Clara's life. Giving her gifts, a puppy, permanently popping up whenever Clara least expected it - until it had got to the point where Clara was always expecting it - and generally being her usually psychotically flirtatious self, they had to have an ulterior motive. Something, anything. Revenge, or maybe she was just trying to drive Clara insane.

" _Traps are my flirting…"_

The memory of Missy's voice, Scottish burr purring over those syllables in Clara's ear, could still make her shiver without warning. But no, it couldn't be that. After all, Missy had said it herself.

" _Try, nano-brain, to rise above the reproductive frenzy of your noisy little food-chain, and contemplate friendship…"_

It couldn't be… _ **that**_. Missy wasn't interested in that, Time Lords in general weren't interested in that. The love she felt for the Doctor, and he for her, wasn't physical in that way. He'd finally got over his aversion to hugging her, but that wasn't desire. Clara knew desire, had felt it in all its forms. She didn't expect it from a Time Lord, or Lady.

No, it had to be something else. But what? And why? Really, why _**her**_? What was the point of this game?

Clara had an uneasy feeling she was going to find out soon enough.

* * *

She was marking mock-English Literature tests. Outside, the sky was grey and dull, much like another day that Clara refused to think too hard on. The chicken scratch of her pupils' handwriting was struggling, and failing, to hold her focus and she kept letting her mind wander. Shakespeare and Austen were all very well, but reading meandering, juvenile paragraphs was proving trying this time.

 _Now, that's not a particularly nice thought. They're all improving…_ One side of Clara's brain, the human, compassionate side that loved being a teacher pointed out censoriously. The other less charitable, less human side, the one who loved danger and monsters and explosions, the one who loved wonders and abandoned her class to watch a solar storm hit the Earth, ignored it. She felt more and more detached from her life with every day, like it was a half-decent movie on TV she was only half-heartedly watching.

With a shake, Clara pushed that feeling of detachment aside, and forced herself to re-focus on her marking. She found herself re-reading the same poorly constructed sentence three times, before she growled under her breath. Circling the grammatical and spelling errors with her pen, before scribbling a note in the margin, she threw the pen down and pushed back her chair. She gave in to the urge to cross to the window, folding her arms and staring out into the dull autumn day.

Below her, the Year Eights were taking PE with Mr Foster and Miss Glenn, trying in vain to get their pupils to practice their dribbling with basketballs instead of playing an impromptu game of dodge ball. On the other side of the basketball court/playground, she could see into the windows of the Maths Department. Once, she'd often looked over after a lesson had ended to see Danny there, enthusiastically gesturing at his whiteboard, brimming with vigour for his subject even if the students were struggling to stay awake. It had always made her smile, but now it only filled her with sadness and anger when she looked over and saw a stranger in Danny's place, in Danny's classroom.

It wasn't the new teacher's fault. It wasn't the Doctor's fault, hell it wasn't even Missy's fault. There was no one Clara could blame for the way Danny had been stolen from her, so instead of blaming, she did as he'd asked of her during that dreamscape and let herself miss him, let the pain and the anger wash over her, let it burn, before letting it fade away. It was getting easier with time, and Clara wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

It also made her feel ashamed. For five minutes a day, she let herself miss Danny and then let herself get on with life. The other seven hundred and fifteen minutes a day, however, her thoughts were consumed by other things, things she was fairly sure Danny hadn't included in his definition of 'getting on with it'. Like walking a super-intelligent, telepathic dog with the woman who would have made his afterlife a living hell. Letting herself be enthralled by her, letting herself think and dream and obsess about her.

That wasn't what Danny had meant at all, but Clara couldn't help herself.

It had been a week since she'd last seen Missy, and she couldn't help but look for her now, half-expecting her to materialise in a whirl of plum skirts and mad curls and ozone cloud, right there on the edge of the basketball court. Of course, there was nothing there but the Year Eight PE class, and cold, grey tarmac.

Then Clara's phone vibrated silently in her pocket. And even though it wouldn't be who she secretly wished it was, a smile spread across her serious face.

That smile faded a second later, when she answered the call. "Doctor? I'll meet you at the Tower."

Mr Dunlop was not going to be happy about this.

* * *

As Clara drove her bike through the London streets towards Tower Hill, dodging between emergency service vehicles and disgruntled black cabbies, she couldn't quite believe the sight meeting her eyes. On each rooftop, thousands of people stood at the very edges, seemingly unafraid of the drop just an unwary step away. It reminded Clara eerily of that weird Christmas when the Sycorax tried to invade.

She couldn't hear over the roar of her bike's engine, but they all appeared to be saying something, mouthing the same words over and over again. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but they sent a shiver down her spine. She dismissed it as the chill from the wind, and concentrated on not crashing her bike into something as she zigzagged through traffic.

Nevertheless, anticipation began to set in as she drew closer to the Tower, enflaming her senses, like a hint of spice on the tip of her tongue. _**This**_ is what she lived for.

The moment Clara arrived at the Tower of London, she was whisked straight through security, past hordes of frozen people, still unable to discern what they were mouthing. Whatever they were saying, they did so silently.

The security guards gaped at her when they realised who she was. It took them a few minutes to recover before they escorted her down and into the main hub of UNIT headquarters. Their odd behaviour struck Clara, only increasing the unease pooling her gut, contradicting the anticipation in her veins.

Kate was waiting for her, alongside the female scientist Clara had only briefly met during the 'Missy' incident and vaguely remembered being introduced to as Jac, and behind them the Doctor paced back and forth, a dark scowl on his wizened features.

"Hey, so what's happening?" Clara asked as soon as the two guards left her. Kate looked to her uneasily, as Jac fidgeted and the Doctor stopped his pacing. "I saw the people on the roofs, what's happening to them?"

"It's Missy, she's back," the Doctor all but barked, his voice grim and hoarse. He ran a hand through his hair in agitation, before finally meeting Clara's eyes. "She's asked for you. Well, more like demanded. I don't think the word 'ask' exists in Missy's vocabulary- "

"Asked for _**me**_? What does she want me for?" Clara replied, interrupting the Doctor's babbling, her eyes wide. Internally, her stomach felt like it had just fallen through the floor. A chill ran down her spine as she remembered the people outside, the words they were mouthing, over and over again. "The people outside. What are they saying?"

Kate sighed, as Jac stepped forward. "They're saying 'Clara Oswald'," she told her. "Over and over again, but never with any sound. We're still trying to identify the source of the control-"

"Oh, it's obvious," the Doctor interrupted. "The Mistress is an expert in hypnosis, singular or in mass groups. She hypnotised practically the population of a whole nation into voting for her as Harry Saxon. This is child's play."

"But why? What's in it for her? And how do I fit into this?" Clara asked urgently. "I'm guessing she contacted you through the Doctor channel again, what did she say exactly?"

Kate shrugged. "Just 'same time, same place Impossible Girl. Three's a crowd, so come alone'. Presumably a warning to us not to send any backup, she doesn't even want the Doctor there. Just you."

Clara felt that swooping sensation in her stomach again at the suspicion in the two women's gazes, while the Doctor just looked pained. But whatever Missy had done to her to stop her talking, it was still working. She couldn't confess anything.

So instead, she played for time. "Can you trace the source of the signal?" she asked the Doctor.

"What?" he cocked his head.

"There has to be something Missy's using to hypnotise these people," she explained.

"Like the Archangel network. It's been decommissioned but the principle would be the same-" Jac interjected, nodding to herself. "There must be some way to track and disable it."

"If I can get close enough to one of the hypnotised, I can tap into their minds and find the signal," the Doctor mused. "But she might be watching for it. And why those people in particular?"

Clara snorted. "I don't think there's any reason. She just picked them at random," she stated firmly. The Doctor's words sank in, and despite the dread in her gut, she nodded. "You need a distraction. You've got me."

The Doctor's eyes widened in realisation. "No. Absolutely not!" he barked firmly. Clara crossed her arms defiantly.

"I'm your ace in the hole and you know it," she snapped back. "Missy wants me, for whatever twisted reason, so give me to her. Just until you can disrupt the signal holding these people captive. You handle this, I'll handle her."

"Clara," the Doctor's voice was harsh and pained as he stepped towards her, his hands like manacles on her upper arms. "She almost killed you on Skaro. Whatever her reasons for pursuing you, they're nothing good. Don't let your guard down for a moment."

"I know," Clara breathed in reply, with a warm smile up at the Doctor. A part of her felt a little annoyed that he felt he needed to remind her. As for Missy's motives, she was beginning to suspect that just like before, this was a way to reel Clara in, get her alone. But for what? She pushed those questions aside, and looked to Kate. "Can you get me out there?"

Kate nodded. "I'm not happy about this, but we need all the time you can buy us. I'll get you a plane from City immediately."

As Kate turned away, barking orders like the true daughter of a Brigadier that she was, Clara felt another shudder ripple down her spine, merging with the dread and the guilt. It felt almost like excitement.

* * *

After a hectic flight over to Spain, and an equally nervous drive from the airport while she was fitted up with a wire, so a security team could monitor her status. Saying goodbye to the Doctor hadn't exactly been fun either.

As Clara watched the Spanish countryside flash past outside the car window, she took a deep breath. The agent sat opposite her glanced at her swiftly, but she just smiled and shook her head. He might think it was nerves that made her take a deep breath, but in reality, it was to calm the thrill thrumming through Clara like an electrical pulse. The thought of once again confronting the Mistress, without the threat towards any other human lives but her own, was intoxicating her.

It almost outweighed the guilt that mingled with it, reminding Clara of the lie she was indirectly telling the Doctor, Kate and all the others. She didn't have much choice, mind you with the telepathic block Missy had inflicted on her that first night - oh yes, she'd worked it out eventually, after doing some research in the Tardis library during a quiet stretch in their travels - but Clara knew herself well enough to sense that she mightn't have told anyone even if she could. The thrill, the danger of it all, was too addictive to pass up. One day, she'd trick Missy into removing it and maybe then she'd tell someone what was going on, or try and find a way to tell the Doctor so he could remove it himself, but that day was yet far off.

Her sense of shame at the shallow justification barely impinged on the guilt or the excitement. As the car pulled in to that same quiet, quaint little Spanish town she'd visited before on Missy's behest, Clara did her best to quell her exhilarated smile and tried to work out a strategy for keeping Missy engaged, to keep her talking so the Doctor could do what he did best and save everyone.

And while he did that, Clara could satisfy her guilty little addiction once more.

The car pulled up several streets away from the square where Missy awaited her. Clara turned to her escort, as one held out a gun.

"For you," the agent stated firmly. "Just in case."

"Last time she needed eight snipers to take her down, or so she claimed," Clara muttered, but she took the gun anyway.

"To kill her permanently," the agent nodded. "This might not stop her regenerating, but it'll slow her down and give you a chance to escape until we can reach you. We'll be listening, Miss Oswald."

Clara hefted the weight of the handgun in her palm. It was smooth and cool against her skin, making her shiver. With a nod and a tap against his ear from her escort, she took a deep breath and exited the car. She knew the way.

* * *

The square was as deserted as before, devoid of life bar a few doves and the woman sat at a table, waiting for her. Clara uneasily wondered exactly how Missy had managed to clear the square, before shaking the notion away. She didn't need to know, and no point freaking herself out thinking about it. Then she noticed the people on the rooftops, and sighed. Of course.

The handgun was a heavy weight against her back, steady and oddly reassuring, where she'd shoved it down her waistband, relieved she'd picked trousers to wear to work that day. It was hidden by the fall of her biker jacket, and it made her feel oddly secure as she walked steadily across the square, the cobbles ringing under her boot heel.

It shouldn't have done. She was walking across a square, alone and unguarded, towards the woman who had the knowledge and power to freeze planes in the sky and hypnotise entire groups of people at once. Her closest rescue was a five minute walk away, and her only weapon was a gun that wouldn't kill, only set off the regenerative response. She should have been terrified, but she wasn't.

Clara had long ago stopped worrying about what she _should_ have been, as opposed to what she _was_.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, and the familiar path it would have led her down, always to Danny, she focussed again on the woman she drew ever closer to.

She was clothed as usual in her purple suit, a swirl of midnight lined amethyst against the backdrop of pale-hued buildings around them. Her curls were swept up in her usual madcap style, and her cold eyes gleamed with satisfaction and anticipation as she watched Clara draw closer. Once again, a coffee cup was placed in front of her, but this time she merely watched Clara serenely rather than fiddle with it.

The ostentatious ring on her left hand caught the sun, flashing in the bright light, as Clara's eyes narrowed. She had a funny feeling about that ring, and the knowing curl to Missy's smirk.

She glanced around surreptitiously, and noted that Missy's position, and her own when she eventually reached the table where Missy sat, was such that they'd be in profile, or sitting with their backs to, any CCTV cameras. No chance for a lip-reader to work out what they were saying to one another.

Clara's stomach bottomed out, and she had to repress a shudder. She met Missy's gaze head on, refusing to be cowed, and she saw those scarlet-hued lips laugh silently.

"Hello, puppy," she purred salaciously. "Long time, no see. Did you miss me?"

Clara stopped by the chair obviously meant for her. "You've blocked the wire," was all she said, certain.

"Of course," Missy smiled, her ring catching the sun once more. "As you guessed I would. That way we can talk uninterrupted by those apes, girl-to-girl."

Clara rolled her eyes, but sat down anyway, sure there wasn't really any other viable course of action. "You could have just called, y'know," she offered pointedly, glancing to the humans Missy had trapped in a trance. "Dropped by the flat. God knows, you're not one to stand on ceremony."

"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, dear?" Missy countered, her smirk widening to a full smile. It wasn't a particularly pleasant one, but it only added fuel to the fire of Clara's exhilaration. Like baiting a lion, knowing full well that it would eventually snap. "Don't you like my latest calling card?"

"Was this supposed to impress me?" Clara demanded, as an ember of anger flared into life for the first time. Playing Missy's games was one thing, but she'd prefer it if innocents were left out of it. "Because it doesn't."

"Oh admit it, Clara!" Missy laughed, rolling her eyes as she leant her cheek on one hand. Clara tried to read her eyes, but failed. They were ultimately as opaque as hard ice. "The wire's off, the cameras aren't rolling. Your precious little friends at UNIT can't hear you, your darling Doctor will never know. Go on, admit it. You _**are**_ impressed, just a smidge!"

"We will find a way to stop this, you know," Clara replied firmly. "Whatever bonkers new scheme you've concocted this time, we will-"

"Oh, like the way the daughter one willingly threw you to the big, bad wolf so the Doctor would have time to trace and disrupt the source of my hypnotism?" Missy inquired with mock politeness, making Clara's mouth snap shut. "Predictable as parsnips. And child's play, as he will shortly discover. Maybe I just wanted you to myself."

"You've had me to yourself regularly for the past few weeks," Clara interjected testily. Missy's eyes gleamed lasciviously, and she mentally slapped herself for the double entendre. "Missy, head out of the gutter. Time Lords don't do the whole 'reproductive frenzy' thing, remember?" she snapped at her mockingly.

Missy laughed, a full-blown cackle this time. "Oh pup, you do make me laugh."

"Glad I'm so amusing," Clara muttered through gritted teeth. "If you're not really planning anything, what's the point of this? Why have you brought me here?"

"How's Junior?" Missy abruptly changed the subject, looking down at her fingernails intently. "Still wetting the bed, or have you _finally_ succeeded in teaching her to use the loo?"

"She's a dog, she can't-" Clara spluttered, glaring at the Time Lady.

"A 42nd Century, genetically modified dog," Missy corrected her, with a bored tone. "Just you wait until she grows up."

"Stop trying to distract me," Clara snapped. "You've been stringing me along for weeks now, popping up in my life whenever you please, and making it ten times harder than it already is. I know you've telepathically blocked me from telling the Doctor about you, so it begs the question: what do you want from me?"

"Oooh, I do love it when you get all feisty on me, pup," Missy chuckled, her momentary annoyance seemingly fading back into her usual lazy amusement. But something flashed in her eyes, too fast for Clara to discern, but it made her heart pound faster.

Clara's hands clenched on the arms of her chair, before she stood abruptly and slammed her hands flat on the table's surface, making the china of Missy's coffee cup rattle. "Let these people go and get on with whatever twisted game you're playing."

"And you claimed you weren't impressed," Missy cooed, before glancing around them at the entranced crowd on the rooftops.

"I'm not," Clara stated as firmly as she felt able, but Missy just sent her a disbelieving, narrow-eyed stare. It questioned Clara's assertion, the very core of her morality, and it made her angry. "Missy!"

"Oh, fine, fine," Missy pouted, before reaching into her coat for her little handheld device, presumably a new one since her last one had been taken from her on Skaro. The hellish device chirped like some obscene parody of a bird, as suddenly the air was filled with a cacophony of alarmed shrieks and screams. "Satisfied?" Missy asked churlishly, as Clara turned her back to look at the newly awakened humans.

Big mistake.

Clara felt a vicelike grip around her wrist, then the familiar warmth of leather wrapped around it. Cool breath caressed her ear, making her shiver. "As for us, I think it's time we take this riveting discussion to more…conducive surrounds." Missy hissed against her ear, before Clara felt the now too familiar sickening lurch of teleportation, and the square faded from sight in a blur of light.

Clara felt hard ground under her feet, and she collapsed forwards onto her knees, coughing and gasping for air.

"Oh pup!" Missy crooned behind her. "And I thought you were just happy to see me!"

Clara found the will to look up, and saw the gun cradled in Missy's hand. Of course, she had to have felt it when she was pressed up against Clara's back to get the wrist unit on her. She groaned at the innuendo, and struggled to stand, fighting against the nausea of teleportation.

"Ickle Clara, playing with guns!" Missy continued her teasing, with a girlish giggle. "What would the Doctor say!?"

"Not his to say anything about," Clara replied firmly, regaining her equilibrium as she glanced at her surroundings. "Where are we? Where have you taken me?"

They were stood on a barren outcrop of rock, the ground a mix of pumice and something soft like gravel. Or ash.

The sky above them was black, but there was a strange, reddish flickering light.

Missy tossed the handgun over the edge of the outcrop. "Why don't you go fetch and see?" she replied mockingly. Clara walked towards the edge, and stopped to gape in shock and horror at the sight that met her eyes.

The sight that met her eyes was like a painting of Hell. A sea of flames stretched out as far as the eye could see, barring solitary islands of rock, hissing and convulsing in agony amidst the inferno. The sky was indeed black, and the flames painted it a flickering blood-red like some ghastly ceiling.

"Where are we?" Clara breathed. She felt Missy step up beside her, holding her arms out as if in benediction.

"Oh, some little backwater planet," Missy crowed. "I got bored and decided to play."

" _ **You**_ did this?" Clara hissed in shock. Missy turned to her with a triumphant look.

"Go on, admit it. You're impressed now," she purred, taking a step towards Clara. Clara took a stumbling step backwards, away from Missy and away from the hellish scene before her.

"No!" she protested vehemently. "That's sick, that's twisted. _**You're**_ twisted! You're evil!"

"Not disagreeing with any of that assessment, Clara dear," Missy cooed, clasping her hands behind her back, looking every inch the prim and proper Edwardian Governess. "But what do you imagine your saintly Doctor leaves in his wake? He leaves as much flames and death and destruction as he does peace and safety."

Clara thought of Ashildr, and couldn't argue that point. "He doesn't do it on purpose," she replied angrily.

"They'd have died anyway," Missy shrugged. "Pitiful little species, with an even shorter lifespan than your stunted simian relatives. I merely hastened their end and now the planet stands as everlasting tribute to them. And me."

Clara wanted to throw up, but the fact was Missy's twisted view eerily echoed the Doctor's words to her, after the incident with the Mire and Ashildr, and the truth of immortality. _Immortality isn't living forever, that's not what it feels like. Immortality is everybody else dying._

Then Clara realised the separation in Missy's words, namely the separation of Clara from her fellow humans. "What d'you mean, my 'stunted simian relatives'? I'm still human," she snarled, eying Missy with growing rage.

Missy laughed. "That's a good one!" she shrieked, before calming. "Oh Clara dear, do you still delude yourself that you're anything close to human?" Missy took a step closer to Clara, then began to circle her, almost waltzing to the roar of the flames below them. "Oh, biologically you're still depressingly human but in that pretty little head of yours…you thrive on destruction and death, you run to danger when you should flee, you risk the lives of others under the justification that it's necessary, you threaten and manipulate and control, you betray and you kill and feel no remorse-"

"Stop it!" Clara snapped.

"It's rather hypocritical really," Missy continued, ruthlessly deaf to Clara's growing distress. "You're losing any real empathy you still possess for your fellow humanity, yet crow in moral superiority over those with far more age and wisdom under their belts who see things otherwise."

"Stop, just…stop!" Clara shouted, her hands shaking. But Missy was merciless.

"And you deny the simple beauty of _this_!" she exclaimed, twirling around with her arms upheld to the sky, a loose curl bouncing by her ear. "The inescapable, perfect truth of the universe. You deny it, but you _yearn_ for it, for the power and the privilege. You paint yourself as the equal of gods. You're not human anymore, Clara Oswin Oswald. You're the Impossible Girl."

Clara was shaking as Missy turned back to her, and approached her with a kind of cool pity in her eyes, backlit by the flames. She reached out a hand and caressed Clara's face. "You've changed too much, Clara, don't you see?" she breathed questioningly. "You're deluding yourself if you try to fool yourself otherwise."

Clara's jaw firmed and she glared at Missy, who just shook her head sadly. "Even the Doctor knows," she whispered, stepping even closer. "He's said it himself. You make an excellent Doctor, and the paltry human concept of 'goodness' has nothing to do with it."

"Shut up…just shut up!" Clara spat venomously, tearing herself away. She placed a safe distance between them, not trusting her clamouring instincts, and shouted her plea to the skies. "Just tell me! What do you want from me!?"

"Oh my sick puppy, my Clara," Missy sighed, gentle and tender in contrast to Clara's anguished scream. "Isn't it obvious?"

Clara was just about to snort in absolute contempt that no, it most certainly wasn't _**obvious**_ , when Missy crossed the space between them in three strides and shoved Clara against the rock.

Her hands came up, pinning Clara's to the rock, and smothered Clara's outraged gasp with her mouth. Surprise made her limp, as Clara registered the coolness of Missy's mouth as she nipped at her lips, the wet pressure of her tongue as Clara let her coax her lips open to explore. A moan welled up in her throat, and Missy drank it in greedily, not giving Clara any time to think as she set about thoroughly exploring every inch of the human's mouth.

Despite the rage and pain that screamed at her for acquiescing, Clara felt herself softening in to the kiss, doing her best to reciprocate despite the icy shackles around her wrists. Missy's body pressed against hers. Her knees felt weak, as the Time Lady released her mouth to trail biting kisses down Clara's jaw and down her neck to the weak spot at the base of her neck, tearing at her jacket and blouse to reach her skin.

Clara sucked in air greedily, the burnt atmosphere making her throat sting, as she remembered where they were, and who she was supposed to be. With a cry, she pushed Missy away from her and darted away from the rock. Trembling, she looked up at Missy.

The Time Lady stood several feet away, looking unruffled except for the redness of her lips from the pressure of Clara's own, and the heated glare in her eyes. Clara almost feared for her safety, as Missy went to move towards her, but she stopped her with a fierce word. "Stop!"

To her surprise, the Time Lady did as she was asked for once. Clara didn't let herself marvel over it for too long, though, as she gathered her wits and her backbone from where Missy had melted them into an obscene puddle at the base of her spine. "Take me back!" Clara snarled, rage making her strong, no matter how much a part of her longed to continue what Missy had started. "This…whatever _**this**_ is will never work. It _**can**_ never work. Just take me back!"

Missy cocked her head to one side, as if curious and intrigued by Clara's resistance. She just smiled sadly, as she approached Clara. "My darling Clara, it is already working. It was always destined to," she breathed. "I chose well for the Doctor…and for myself."

"Missy, this can't work between us," Clara returned quietly, her rage dying down to a simmer, and now tiredness and sorrow held sway. "It just can't. We're too different despite what you think, I'm sorry."

"And I say, pup, that despite what _**you**_ think, it already _**is**_ working between us," the Time Lady leaned forward to whisper in Clara's ear, making her shudder in mingled desire and pain. "As for the difference between us…there's a choice before you Clara. Do you stay the innocent puppy, always running after the Doctor, or do you become something more? With me?"

Clara was wide-eyed as Missy drew back, with an oddly sorrowful look in her eye. "Find me, when you work out the answer to that," she whispered, before raising her arm. Clara saw the master unit to hers on her wrist, and then the sickening lurch as Missy teleported her away, the sight of the Mistress backlit by flames and ash singed on her retinas.

* * *

When she collapsed on her living room floor, disturbing Missy the puppy from her nap on the sofa, she realised the vortex manipulator was still on her wrist.

 _Mistress!_ Missy the puppy clambered into her lap, wagging her tail happily. She looked a little crestfallen as she sniffed Clara and caught sight of her face. _Where's the other mistress? You smell of her, isn't she coming to visit today?_

Clara sighed, and gathered her dog up in her arms, hugging her gently. Despite everything that burned in her to claim otherwise, and end it there, she could only speak the truth. So much for being good at lying…

 _I don't know, little girl. Your other mistress is one screwed up mess…_

 _And I'm not far behind…_ she thought privately to herself, as she unstrapped the wrist unit and promptly hid it under her bed before contacting the Doctor and Kate.

* * *

 _To be continued…_


End file.
